


Winter.

by argenterie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Consensual Infidelity, Desperation, Emotional Infidelity, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fucking, Infidelity, Lust, Out of Character, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rough Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 15:52:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2115801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/argenterie/pseuds/argenterie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione gives in to it. </p><p>She gives in... </p><p>to Harry.</p><p>"The snow outside, the snow inside, the snow, deep inside her, and Hermione knows, oh, she knows, that the snow will be there, forever, it will never melt, and the winter will be here, inside of her, even over the years, even with seasons as they change, there will be a little bit of winter just left there, left right down deep in the center of her, in the pocket, the tiny pocket of her, the winter, right here, the snow, the snowflakes, which will never melt from her hair."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter.

Winter

\-----

It’s winter.

The snow is still falling, outside. It hardly ever snows here, she thinks, as she looks out her window. It’s night. The white against the black, outside, and the dim shining of the porchlight, the snowflakes, slowly falling, and it’s so quiet, so quiet.

She is thinking, she is thinking, she is wondering.

Harry is here, tonight. 

Hermione is sitting in the living room of the house that she and Ron have made together. Ron is asleep already, he’s gone to bed, hours ago really, he has gone into the master suite and shut the doors and he’s asleep right now, she knows it. She can sense it.

But.

Harry is here, too.

Hermione and Ron have made a home together. Just the two of them, usually.

But tonight, because of the snow, Harry has decided to stay here, at their house.

Earlier, as the snow fell, and it was so late, maybe 1 am, and she and Harry and Ron were talking in the living room, as the snow fell outside, and piled into heaps, and the night grew more dark and more silent, and the three of them were talking about old times, because it has been so long, the war has been over for a long time now, and Harry doesn’t come by their house, very often, anymore. He has other things to do, these days, he is busier, lately. 

But tonight, because of the snow, he said he would come over, and then he did, and it’s just like the old days, and Hermione feels happy, sweetly comfortable, it’s almost like those days in the war, in the tent.

And then, earlier tonight, Ron said, “good night,” and went into the master suite and shut the doors and did not come back, and then she and Harry just smiled at one another, and the night grew ever more perfect, somehow, who knows why, but it did, it was suddenly more perfect, and oh, oh, oh.

Then Harry said, “Let’s go play outside, in the snow.” And Hermione, she laughed, and shook her head no, but then, Harry, he stood, and took her hands in his, and he said, “Yes. Yes.” And he pulled her along with him.

So, she stood with him, and they went into the front yard, and she closed the front door behind her, standing on the porch. The white glow of the snow, and the blackness of the sky, and it was so quiet, so silent, and then Harry was running around the yard just calling her name, “Hermione, come on, come on.” And so the snow was falling, and she smiled, and as the snow fell, he ran and laughed, and she started to laugh too, and she joined him, she darted into the yard to the left, feeling the snow crunch beneath her feet, hearing the small hushing sound of her footsteps in the piled-up snow. And then, Harry and Hermione ran about in the snow, their jagged footsteps visible, marring the clean white yard, their footstep-holes akimbo, all across the snowy grass, and the two of them, they laughed, how they laughed, and she suddenly knelt, and gathered the snow into a ball with her hands, and threw it, and he dodged, and laughed, and ran away, and her hands were freezing, and wet, but she didn’t care, she laughed again, and gathered more snow, and threw another snowball at him, and then he did the same, and the two of them ran around the yard as the snow fell, screaming and laughing and loving, and the snowfight became more intense, and then suddenly he was tackling her, shoving snow down her collar, and she struggled against him and laughing and screamed, wriggling, and his laughter was everything, his face close to hers, his eyes dancing, and his ice-cold hands wet against her neck and her face and it was just perfect, perfect, as they wrestled together in the snow, in the yard, just the two of them, as she tried to pry his hands off of her, giggling, as she was pushing snow into his eyes, into his hair, and the two of them just rolling around, it’s so cold, and yet, in this moment, she thought, oh, no, it’s not cold at all, is it. It’s actually… it’s actually hot.

And she stopped pushing him away, all of a sudden, and she just lay there, silently in the snow, and she realized suddenly that his body was against hers. His face close to hers. And he was laughing, but when she stopped moving, he stopped too, and then they were just lying against one another, on the ground, with the snow all around them, flakes of it nestling gently in his hair, his glasses fogged, and oh, his face was so close to hers, and his arms were actually kind of around her, and she could feel his heat, suddenly, she wasn’t cold at all, and she just looked at him, in the eyes, and she just lay there, and looked at him.

Seconds ticked past. The world froze solid for a while, because it was winter, and the two of them just watched one another, while Ron was asleep inside, it was, oh god, it was maybe 3 am, and Hermione just lay there, in the snow, and looked at Harry, as Harry held her in his arms, as they lay together in the snow, oh, in the snow. His eyes burned into hers, his expression unknowable, his face frozen into a mask of confusion, of maybe lust, of maybe pain, of maybe, maybe, maybe… maybe… love. And, and then, she watched him, and she bit her lip, and she leaned forward just a tiny bit, and oh, so gently, she placed her lips against his lips, oh, the snow, the cold, but she pushed her lips into his, and he closed his eyes and pushed his lips back into hers, and it was so fucking cold, but she didn’t care, she felt him, she felt him against her, and she felt the fear and confusion and panic through this kiss, in the snow, she felt this moment pivot outward, and as they lay against one another in the yard, with the snow falling into her hair, her hands ice-cold and frozen, she kissed Harry, oh, she kissed him, for the first time, she felt his lips against hers, his hot breath against her mouth, and she felt, suddenly, that she loved him, she loved him, she did, she did.

They kissed, they kissed, her arms around him, and his arms around her, and the snow fell, and it melted on their skin, and their bodies were so close, he was laying against her, and the kiss went on, and on, and on.

And then.

He pulled away, and he looked at her, and she saw his eyes, and then he rapidly stood up, his eyes a wash of confusion and sadness and desperation, and he turned away from her, and he said, “good night, Hermione,” and then he walked away, he walked up the porch steps, and then he went into the house, so quickly, and she sat up in the snow, and watched him go inside, and felt her emotions rolling around like a tornado, and as the snowflakes gathered in her hair, she touched her ice-cold fingertips to her lips, which were still swollen from the intensity of the kisses that she and Harry had just shared. And she felt her lips with her fingers, and watched the door as it closed. Her emotions were a crushing chaos inside her.

And then, she eventually stood up too, and went inside.

She sat in the living room alone, and looked out at the snow, as she thawed out from the cold.

And she thought to herself… Harry. Oh, Harry, he walked away, but… he never left, though. He couldn’t drive home in this weather. And nobody apparated anymore. So he was stuck at their house, he’s here, in the house that Hermione and Ron owned together. So she knows, he has just gone to bed in the guest room, the room that is basically just Harry’s room, because he’s the only guest they have, really. He’s just in there, in the guest room. He’s in there, alone.

Hermione sits in the living room, thinking, thinking.

Harry. 

Oh, Harry, he’s here, he’s still here, and Ron, he’s here too, but he would never play with her in the snow, he would never tackle her to the ground and wrestle snow down her collar, and he would never laugh with her, the way that Harry did, and this fact just nestles down deep in her heart, and creates a little pocket there, a tiny pocket of sadness, of being unfulfilled, and she looks down at the pocket, and she decides, she decides.

It’s so silent in the house, so quiet, so empty, and yet so full.

She stands. She walks to the door, and she hesitates, for one second, thinking, of the snow, of the winter, of how cold she feels, all the way down deep inside herself, thinking of that ice-cold pocket of sadness inside of her soul, and then, after she hesitates, she takes one breath, and then, she knocks, twice, just twice, so quietly, so quietly.

She waits.

Her head pressed against the door, her heart jumping, the panic and terror suddenly peaking inside her, and as she waits, oh, god, what is she doing? What?

And the door opens, and there he is. 

Harry.

Harry opens the door, and he looks at her, and they are just looking at each other, in the night, in the dark, and then he holds out his hand, and she puts her hand into his, and she lets him guide her into the bedroom, in the dark, dusky guest bedroom, and she closes the door behind her, and they are just standing there, in the dark, together, their hands touching, but nothing else.

She says, “Harry.” 

He says, “What do you need…?”

And she doesn’t answer his question, she just pushes forward and wraps her arms around his middle, and holds him tightly, and presses her head into his chest, her cheek against him, her arms tight around him, and she runs her fingertips up and down his back in a rhythm that she has imagined for years, years. And she feels him freeze against her at first, arms out, his body not moving, at first, and then after a beat, two, three, four, and then, she feels him breathing, and then he wraps his arms around her back, holding her body to his own, his heartbeat pounding there against her cheek, his hands wrapping now into her hair, sliding around her body, against her head, his fingers in her hair, his hands all over her now, and she is clutching him so tightly, and it is intense, oh, so intense, oh god.

He pulls back a little bit, and then, in the silence, in the lateness of this night, they are suddenly kissing again, their mouths crushing into one another, she has her hands in his hair, he’s wrapping his arms around her body and pushing into her, and she’s feeling him against her, and both of their damp clothing seeming insubstantial suddenly, as their bodies press tightly against each other, and she thinks, she is thinking, I am so lost, I am barely here, it is too late to stop this now, and I don’t want to stop, I don’t want to stop this.

She pulls back, gasping, her heart slamming against her ribs, and she starts to pull off his sweater, and he backs up too, helping her take off his shirt, and then together, they work together to pull off her shirt and her pants and then she is unbuckling his belt and he’s kicking off his pants and then they are climbing onto the guest bed together, wearing only underwear, and his hair is damp still from the snow, and her hair is plastered against her back, wet, and she doesn’t care, and she just wants him, she can’t stop running her hands over his skin, and they are silent, just silent, to not wake Ron, to not have this be happening, to make it happen in silence so that it hasn’t really happened at all, so that it will never have happened.

She pulls him onto her body, and he’s kissing her again, and his hands all up and down her body, and she feels him against her, hard, and she reaches between them and grasps his cock, and the room is suddenly so hot, and he’s panting, but quietly, and kissing her neck, and she can’t stop, and then she opens her eyes and looks at him suddenly, as he watches her, and she shudders, and pulls away a little, and then all at once, the realization of what she is doing, that she is betraying Ron, he’s in the next room, in their bed, Ron, he’s just sleeping there, alone, and at this same moment, she is in here, with Harry, and she feels that terror wash through her suddenly, and she pulls away, and turns over, and rolls off the bed, and he opens his arms and lets her go, and she’s standing now, and he’s still lying there on the bed, on the covers, and she looks at him and she bites her lip, she is aching, she is dying, maybe, dying.

He sits up a little, and she is standing, against the wall, in the dark, in the guest room, and she is just watching him. Harry sits up all the way, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, until he’s sitting in front of her, as she is standing against the wall. They are this way, they just pause like this, Hermione’s heart jumping out of her body, and Harry, just sitting there, watching her. 

She feels it happen, as it happens. She feels it. It is like a switch being flipped. She feels the world pivot again, and the truth slams into her body, and she opens her mouth and gasps, and reaches for Harry, and pulls him to her, as she’s standing there against the wall, and he stands up, crushing his body into hers, standing, against the wall, and they are kissing again, his mouth on hers, and then his lips moving along her jaw and on her neck, nibbling, as she throws her head back, and gasps, and pulls him tighter against her, and then she is fumbling with his underwear and then she is pulling his cock out, and she is whispering a contraception/barrier charm, and she stands on one leg and lifts her other leg to wrap around him, and she’s begging, so quietly, in his ear, saying his name, “Harry…” and grinding into his body with her hips, and she’s so wet, she’s so wet she might die, oh, she needs this, she needs him inside her, and oh, oh god, and he’s still kissing her neck and jaw and mouth, and murmuring her name, over and over, as he slides her panties to the side, and then, oh, then, he is pushing himself deep inside her, as they are both standing, against the wall, her leg wrapped around him, and then he’s inside her, completely, and she throws her head back and feels like screaming, but she can’t scream, because, oh, because… because. So she doesn’t scream, she just gasps, and writhes against him, and he thrusts into her over and over again, standing, against the wall, and she feels him so hard inside her, her orgasm pressing forward, and then exploding inside her, and she is biting his neck, as it happens, her tongue sliding there on his skin, and her heart bursting, and she is coming, she is coming, and he’s at first sliding, pushing into her, then increasingly rapid, harder, and then he’s slamming into her, him, his cock sliding into her over and over, so hard, as she’s coming, and she looks into his eyes, he’s holding her hips and her leg, and he drags one hand off of her body, and with that hand he tears his glasses off and throws them to the side, and then he pulls her hips into him again, and thrusts into her harder, and harder, and kisses her, and oh, his kisses, and he’s fucking her so hard it feels like she’s dying, slammed against the wall of the guest room, she hisses a silencing charm, as she knows she can’t stay quiet much longer, and as soon as the silencing charm leaves her lips, and she feels the wave of quiet push over the room, wrapping over them both, she lets herself call out, she says his name, “oh, fuck, Harry, Harry,” and she is almost to the edge again, as he is fucking her, against the wall, and his hands pulling her closer, and then he’s biting her neck, her shoulder, and groaning, and she feels him close, and she grinds against him, and pulls him into her, all the way, with her leg, and feels him spasm, and he throws her against the wall so hard as he comes that she feels like she will break in half, and there is pain but also ecstasy, and she feels him coming inside of her, and she smiles, grinning, almost laughing, almost there, as he pushes her into the wall, coming inside her.

He pulls back, afterward, and lets her go. She lowers her leg. Her body is trembling from the effort of standing while being fucked, and she lets her body shake, as she kneels, and then sits, on the floor of the guest room. He kneels too, beside her, and wraps his arms around her again, and he pulls her close to him, and they are just kneeling, holding one another. He pulls her head to his chest, and she can feel his heart beating there. She can feel his heart, pounding. She can feel his pulse.

They sit like this, against the wall, for a while.

She pulls back, and whispers a cleansing charm over them both, and feels the drip and wetness between her legs vanish, evaporating, removing the evidence of their fucking, in a wave of magic. She is sad, somehow, in that moment, she feels empty, as she first feels the proof of tonight, and then feels that proof wash away, so easily, so easily.

She kisses him again on the mouth. He is still sitting there, leaning against the wall, and he is watching her. She holds his face with her hands. She kisses him again, and just sits, looking at him.

They understand each other.

Harry sits, watching her, and nods, he nods. He doesn’t try to stop her when she stands up, when she gets her clothes and puts them back on. He doesn’t stop her when she undoes the silencing charm. He just sits, watching, pulling a blanket over his naked torso, as she gets everything back to the way it has to be. 

And as she’s dressing herself, he stands too, and puts on his pants, slowly, and then sits back on the edge of the bed, to watch her.

She is dressed, she is clean. It is quiet, of course, because of the snow, and because it is the middle of the night, but the silence charm is lifted, and she feels so alone, so fucking alone, it is like the worst pain that she has ever felt, but she also feels whole, filled up, alive, and she doesn’t know what to do with all of these feelings, as they can’t all possibly happen at the same time, and yet, they are, they are all fucking happening, and she feels so overwhelmed, so swamped, that she just tamps all of this down, and gets herself ready, and tries not to look at Harry. 

But she can’t help it.

She looks at him, and he is watching her. He doesn’t move, but he just says, in the silence, in the night, “You have to go, don’t you.”

And she nods, and feels her chest heave, and her throat ache, and her body pulse, and she feels it right down deep into the center of her being, this agony, this is what it is, this is the truth, the truth is like, it is like being ripped in half, but yes, Harry, yes, I have to go. I have to go.

She nods, and he nods back, and nobody is crying, there aren’t any tears. It’s winter, it’s the winter, and she is trying to feel frozen inside, trying to numb all of these feelings with the image of the snow outside. It’s the snow. It’s winter. And so, no tears. 

She turns away from him, then, and opens the door, and leaves him alone in the guest room, alone, and she stands in the hall, and thinks, and panics, and wonders, and loves, and hates herself, and she feels, oh, she feels, she feels.

And then, one more whispered cleansing charm, so quietly, so quietly. And then, she walks to the doors to the master bedroom, and she so gently, so gently, opens them, and walks into the darkened bedroom where Ron sleeps, and she hears him breathing in his sleep, and she turns around and shuts the bedroom doors again, firmly, hearing the click as the door latches, and she feels it, oh, she feels it, as that door shuts forever, as it closes, as that part of her life gets so firmly severed, clipped away, in a snap, it’s all over, the door latching, and this is the door, that will keep her here, it’s the door, oh, the door.

The doors are closed, and she walks to the bed, and climbs in, very softly, and lies next to Ron, and hears him breathing, and she lies awake, she lies there awake for hours, hours, just hearing him breathing, and imagining Harry breathing in his own room, only steps away, just there, pivoting, and thinking, and remembering. And it’s winter. The snow outside, the snow inside, the snow, deep inside her, and she knows, oh, she knows, that the snow will be there, forever, it will never melt, and the winter will be here, inside of her, even over the years, even with seasons as they change, there will be a little bit of winter just left there, left right down deep in the center of her, in the pocket, the tiny pocket of her, the winter, right here, the snow, the snowflakes, which will never melt from her hair.


End file.
